


Beyond Nice

by Hisa_Ai



Series: Too Hot (Hot Damn) [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Eavesdropping, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisa_Ai/pseuds/Hisa_Ai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, it was in everybody's best interest that Arthur not know about what his mouth did while he was sleeping, and that was all there was to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Nice

**Author's Note:**

> **This was kinda sorta inspired by the song** _Talking In Your Sleep_ **by The Civil Wars.**

* * *

 

  
*

  
Arthur was _lucky_ to have _Mer_ lin as his servant, Merlin thought, was lucky that _Mer_ lin was loyal and would _never_ do anything to bring any harm to Arthur or Camelot, would never spill any of Arthur's deepest, darkest secrets to anyone. He was _lucky_ he had Merlin as a servant and not someone else who would take advantage of the king's small, erm, _problem_. If his enemies found out that the king of Camelot, a man who would protect his kingdom and secrets with his very life, did something so involuntary and foolish…

  
Things would turn into complete chaos, so it was for the best if absolutely no one else knew that Arthur did it. Not the knights, not any other servants—no one. No one could be trusted with that sort of knowledge; after all, who knew who would turn tail and betray Arthur without a second thought in the world? It was absolutely vital that no one knew this small detail about Arthur…

  
Not even Arthur himself.

  
Merlin wasn't trying to get one over on Arthur, of course, wasn't trying to take advantage of something he had absolutely no control over, but he also didn't want to embarrass him, didn't want him to send Merlin away well before he'd gone to sleep for fear of what might happen and what Merlin might witness. Which would leave him _completely_ vulnerable to other servants coming in and finding out about the king's weakness while he was at his most vulnerable. If Arthur sent Merlin away before he went to sleep, Merlin wouldn't be able to protect Arthur, wouldn't be able to help Arthur protect Camelot, which was what Arthur sought to do above all else. And if Merlin failed Arthur in helping him to protect their people, their kingdom… What was the point in _anything?_

  
Really, it was in _everybody's_ best interest that Arthur not know about what his mouth did while he was sleeping, and that was all there was to it.

  
And anyway, it wasn't like he did it the entire night—no, usually it was either within a couple hours after first falling asleep or before he woke up, and Merlin could always manage to be about Arthur's chambers doing something or another for those couple of hours every night or morning, if only to protect Arthur, to protect their people, to protect Camelot.

  
  
He was simply doing his job, that was all.

  
*

  
Except, well, that wasn't all _at all_ —it was nowhere _near_ all. Because maybe it was him being a little selfish, too, because some nights—or most nights, _all_ nights rather—Arthur never said anything that would put any of Camelot or her people in danger—even in his sleep, Arthur would _never_ do that. Most nights, the soft mutterings that left Arthur's lips pertained to nothing at all, it was… not _nonsense_ exactly, Merlin wouldn't say, but not something an enemy would be interested in or could even use to their advantage in any sort of way at all.

  
But God was _Merlin_ interested in it—all of it. From harsh whispers against bitter memories that replayed as twisted nightmares to the the soft mutterings of silly notions and fun times that filled his head. It was nice, really, to know this one thing about Arthur that no one else knew, to hear his words so soft and without inhibition in the dark of night when nothing at all seemed too terribly real or important.

  
Arthur's mutterings made everything so real and unreal at once, and it was… Gods, it was something Merlin had never experienced before, a feeling he had never known or was likely to ever truly understand.

  
It was just… _something_.

  
*

  
Eventually, however, it became _more_ than just _something_. It became… _something **else**_.

  
Suddenly but slowly all the same, Arthur's harsh whispers against bitter memories that replayed as twisted nightmares and the soft mutterings of silly notions and fun times that filled his head in these easy, sleep filled moments, turned into _something **else** ,_ turned into mutterings and moanings of…

  
Merlin's name.

  
And oh, of course Arthur had said Merlin's name in his sleep before, that wasn't… wasn't anything new exactly, but what _was_ new was the way his name was said, some nights like it was the most precious thing in the world to Arthur, and others like his hips should have been bucking while he said it, tone rough and needy as Merlin's name tore through his throat—it was new, this way that Merlin's name was said by Arthur in these dark moments, and he didn't know what to make of it at first except God, that he _liked it_. Nevermind the fact that what he was doing might have been considered eavesdropping, if one wanted to count it as such, or the fact that it was also rather creepy—staying around Arthur's chambers at night or coming in early _just_ to hear what he had to say while he was sleeping? It certainly wasn't normal—because it was still…

_  
Nice_. To know that Arthur said his name like that, even if it was only being done while he was sleeping, was nice. More than nice, it was…

  
But he shouldn't get too caught on it, he knew, told himself time and again, night after morning after night; just because Arthur said Merlin's name like that while he was sleeping didn't mean anything. After spending so much time with someone, well… a person was bound to have a few _dreams_ about them.

  
Nevermind the fact that Merlin didn't think he'd ever dreamt of anyone or said anyone's name in quite that manner before, it was easier to tell himself that was all it was than it was to get his hopes up.

  
*

  
Until of course, Arthur said something **else** one evening.

  
Merlin hadn't been doing much, merely keeping himself busy and nearby as he waited to hear if Arthur was going to mumble something that night or if he would have to come in early the next morning—it was exhausting, those mornings when he came in early because Arthur had to be a _prat_ and hold off on his night-time ramblings until the early morning hours—and had just been about to leave, because he knew that if Arthur didn't say anything soon, he wouldn't at all for a few hours at least so he could afford to slip away to steal a few winks.

  
But just as he neared the door, shoulders slumping with exhaustion as they always seemed to, his ears perked up and his hand froze when his name was mumbled from across the room. And it was so _clear_ but so soft and confused that Merlin wondered, for a heart pounding moment, if Arthur had perhaps woken up and caught him still in his chambers. Gods, he didn't know how he would explain that, and had never stopped to consider before that he might someday _need_ to. Arthur had never woken up while he was still in there before, so used to Merlin's presence that his sleep was never disturbed by him being there, no matter how early or late it was.

  
Slowly, he turned around, eyebrow raised as he mumbled cautiously, "Arthur?"

  
Much to his relief, when his eyes found Arthur, he was still in bed, hand tucked under his pillow, sleeping soundly. That was a relief, of course, but curious. Why had he said Merlin's name like that if he was still very much asleep?

  
Merlin moved back towards Arthur, his bed, slowly, cautiously, trying to make sense of the soft mumblings that were still leaving the king's mouth. Over his thudding heart and the sound of him trying not to make any sound at all, he could barely hear anything, and the closer he came to Arthur's bed the more he strained his ears, exerting more concentration just then than he thought he'd ever done while doing some chore or trying to take care of some magical problem.

  
But God, was that extra effort just then worth it, he decided, when his ears caught onto a gentle, mumbled, _I love you_. His breath caught in his throat and anything else Arthur might have said then was completely lost to him, heart pounding so furiously in his chest as his mind tripped over those words.

_  
I love you._

  
Arthur **_loved_ ** someone.

  
And, for a moment, Merlin thought that someone could have been him.

  
*

  
The next morning, however, he realized how absolutely _silly_ he had been. Regardless of the way Arthur had said his name in the moments before he'd said _those_ words, there was absolutely no way he actually **loved** _Mer_ lin. Absolutely none. He had to have been talking about someone else. Had to have been. And the way he'd said Merlin's name had just… been a coincidence, nothing more.

  
*

  
It was hard to continue brushing it off as nothing more than coincidence when the same thing happened again the next night: soft, wondersome mumblings of Merlin's name, and a gently whispered _I love you_. God, Merlin's heart was _never_ going to get used to that, he thought, whether the words were meant for him or not, hearing them said just like that would be something he never grew used t.

  
For nights, things went on in that way, Merlin's name and _those_ words, that sentence that made his heart skip and burst and sing at once leaving Arthur in his sleep, with an audience he was none the wiser to even having in those moments. For nights, he felt too peaceful and happy over it, and for days he held onto the memory of those peaceful happy nights.

  
Every time he looked at Arthur while dressing him, serving him dinner or breakfast, readying him for training or battle or took up his sword to sharpen or his clothes to wash—every time he looked upon him for any reason in the daylight, all he could think of were those words, _I love you_. Those intimate moments in the still of Arthur's room that Merlin shouldn't have been privy to in the first place, were all that he could think of when he looked at Arthur anymore. And he wasn't sure what that meant for either of them.

  
Arthur could see something on Merlin's face, he was sure—Merlin could see him seeing something when he looked at Merlin, and he could see the confusion in his eyes because of it, and he knew that Arthur wasn't going to just stew over it for long; eventually, he was going to ask Merlin, tease him over it, think something was wrong and want to get to the bottom of it. And when he did, Merlin wasn't sure what he was going to say.

  
*

  
Coming clean and just telling Arthur about his little problem—if it even warranted such a title, because as far as Merlin was concerned, it wasn't _that_ big of an issue that it could be called a proper problem at all—wasn't that attractive of an option, because Merlin _did_ weigh his options when he saw Arthur's look and knew his time was running out, and telling Arthur that he talked in his sleep and Merlin had been eavesdropping on him, in a sense, for literal years and hadn't said a word about it was… well, the _last_ thing he should do or wanted to do—the Gods only knew what Arthur would do to Merlin if such a thing ever came to light.

_  
Especially_ considering Arthur's late-night confessions.

  
If Arthur found out about _that_ , Merlin didn't know that he would have Arthur as a friend anymore, nevermind his king.

  
So telling Arthur about it was really the last thing he wanted to do.

  
Lying wasn't exactly an attractive option, but it wasn't like he hadn't done it plenty already, wasn't like he didn't lie all the time to everyone, Arthur included. He'd lied to Arthur plenty before, unfortunately, lying to him about this _one_ extra thing wouldn't be the worst thing he had ever done. Would it break his heart and make him feel ten times more guilt than he felt for lying to Arthur about certain other things did? Absolutely, but, well, if there was one thing Merlin could stomach, it was guilt.

  
So he would just have to lie to Arthur about it, when and if the king asked him about it, and that was all there was to it; it was decided.

  
*

  
That night, despite knowing that a confrontation was coming soon, Merlin stayed around after Arthur had fallen asleep as he always did, the suspicious look Arthur gave him before he drifted off not having escaped Merlin for even a fraction of a moment. Gods, he just needed to remember to _lie lie lie_ when Arthur finally broke down and asked him about it.

  
The problem with deciding to lie about it, however, was that he didn't exactly know what lies he would tell to cover up the truth in this situation. If he'd been a smarter man, he would have thought on a good lie for a little while instead of continually putting it off, but, well, perhaps part of him was simply tired of having to lie to Arthur all the time about important things, and this, almost more than his magic, was important. He couldn't lie about what Arthur said and did in his sleep that led to that look on Merlin's face, because then he would have to lie, in a sense, about his own feelings, and perhaps he was being selfish in this, but he didn't want to lie about his own feelings for Arthur, not this time, not anymore.

  
So he stayed and he sat and watched Arthur for God only knew how long, no pretenses of chores built up around him being there that late; if Arthur woke up, he was going to see Merlin just like that, and Merlin wasn't going to be able to deny anything or lie about it without Arthur seeing right through him.

  
He was very much so being an idiot just then, he could admit, but oh, Arthur did that to him, made him act like the idiot he oft accused him of being, and almost unapologetically sometimes, especially in this instance. He was very so much unapologetically being an idiot in this instance.

  
As he sat watching Arthur, waiting for him to speak, to utter those words that Merlin had come to treasure so, it hit him that he had never said it back. Arthur didn't know that he himself had been saying it, but God, Merlin had still never said it back. All those nights hearing it, all those days treasuring the memory of hearing it and looking forward to hearing them again that night or the next morning at the latest, and he had never said it back, had never once, in the quiet safety of Arthur's chambers in the still of night when no one would hear it or know it was said, said it back. And if Arthur confronted him on everything that was going on without Merlin having said it back even _once_ … he knew he would dwell on it and regret it for as long as he lived.

  
Saying it this one time wouldn't hurt anything, would only make things better in the long run, at least for Merlin's own sake.

  
With that in mind and little else, Merlin quietly and quickly moved from where he was sitting nearby to instead kneel just at the side of Arthur's bed near where the king was slumbering away, as that was _surely_ less suspicious and creepy than towering over his sleeping form would be.

  
Once on his knees, Merlin took a moment to let out a sigh, kept his hands hesitantly to himself, though they ached to reach out to Arthur, to stroke his hair or his forehead now that he was so close and had the perfect opportunity to do just that. But a touch was different from simple words, a touch was bound to stir Arthur, and the last thing Merlin wanted to do was awake the king; for now, he would have to behave and restrain himself.

  
"You silly clotpole," Merlin sighed quietly, looking fondly over Arthur as he did, realization striking him suddenly that not only was this the perfect opportunity to get his own feelings off his chest, it was also perhaps the only chance he would have to tell Arthur the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It could truly be a freeing experience, if he let it be. "All these years you've been… God, you don't even know, do you? Confessing your love for me while you sleep—would it _really_ be so difficult to say it by day, too?" he demanded softly, recognizing himself as a hypocrite as he did. " _Every_ night you say it, you know. _Every_ night you say my name, you say _I love you._ You say my name every damn **day** , Arthur, why can't you just say those other words, too? Hell, why can't _I_? I love you too, Arthur, and I should be saying it too, I shouldn't have to wait for you to be asleep to talk to you about it but… well, you know, don't you? If you didn't, you'd have said it already yourself during the day, wouldn't you have? I…" he licked his lips and ducked his head for a moment, looking away from Arthur's too peaceful face as he did for the first time since he'd started his babbling, needing a moment to gather thoughts without the influence of Arthur's face and the reminder of everything that had happened and that he'd just said.

  
He didn't know where to go from here now that he'd said it, now that it was out there and he knew he had it in him to say it. How, after saying that, could he _possibly_ lie to Arthur about anything or go about his day and life as though everything was normal and he hadn't just said it? God, he hadn't thought this through at all, had he?

  
" _Merlin_ ," Arthur's voice murmured in that sleepy way of his that Merlin hardly paid any mind to just then. He knew what Arthur was going to say, knew what was coming, he hardly needed to see Arthur's face as he said it; being so close to him like this, he probably wouldn't be able to function if he saw Arthur's face as he said it. _God_. "Stop being so stupid, Merlin."

  
And that—oh _that_ was new, _that_ wasn't a night time mumbling at all. He heard it enough during the day, but never at night.

  
With that realization, Merlin's blood ran cold for a second at the thought of Arthur having woken up at any point at all and hearing a word of what he had said—God, what was Merlin going to do if Arthur had somehow woken up and heard any of it? But, well, surely that would never happen; Arthur slept through storms and warning bells in his deepest of sleeps and Merlin's presence in his lightest, he wasn't awake now, there wasn't any way that was _possible_.

  
With that calming, placating thought in mind, Merlin looked up, expecting to see Arthur's peaceful, sleeping face…

  
And his heart leapt to his throat when he saw Arthur's eyes wide open, staring at Merlin unreadably.

**_  
Fuck_**.

  
"What was that, sire?" he asked when he could, as though this whole situation wasn't exactly what it was, as though it was normal for him to be kneeling next to Arthur's bed just like that, having just said all that he had, on the _off_ chance that Arthur had actually heard him.

  
"Stop being stupid," he repeated in a murmur, words almost punctuated by the sleepiness in his voice, though it should have been much the opposite, should have been that Arthur's voice held no edge at all, rather than having all the edge of his sword and all the sternness of his voice at afternoon training.

  
Though given the circumstances, Merlin shouldn't have been surprised at the edge there, shouldn't have even not been expecting it, in all fairness.

  
"I don't…" Merlin swallowed, voice caught in his throat before he could continue. "I don't know what you mean."

  
Arthur made what Merlin could only assume was as close to a snort as he could actually manage just then, only because of the included eyeroll.

  
"Well, if you don't know what I mean," he began, eyes twinkling suddenly as he scooted himself over on the bed so he was just over the edge, his face closer to Merlin's than Merlin thought he had any right to have it upon discovering his manservant had a nightly little habit of watching him while he slept, listening in on his private conversations with himself and his dreams, technically.

_  
Technically_.

  
"Then why don't I show you?" he finished, leaning closer still and God, Merlin stopped _breathing_ because Arthur wasn't _really_ about to do what Merlin thought he was going to do, was he? He couldn't have been, not after presumably hearing all that Merlin had just said, had confessed to. Obviously this was a trap of some sort and Arthur was getting ready to sack Merlin, which he would deserve, granted, but he would _still_ complain about it enough until Arthur decided he needed his sword sharpened again and he needed _Mer_ lin to be the one to do it and he hired him back.

  
But Arthur kept moving towards him, ever so slowly. And whether that was because of what it seemed like Arthur was just about to do or because it was dark and life moved slower in the dark, Merlin didn't know, but he didn't care, not the moment Arthur's lips touched his own, so carefully and softly, completely unlike his tone from a moment previous. Arthur always _had_ been good at keeping Merlin on his toes.

  
It wasn't until Merlin started kissing him back that Merlin realized that Arthur _loved_ him, and Merlin _loved_ Arthur, and Arthur knew that Merlin loved him and knew that Merlin knew that Arthur loved Merlin, so what would have been the _point_ in firing Merlin when kissing him was so much more convenient and so much easier for both of them?

_  
God_.

  
If **that** was how eavesdropping was actually going to turn out from now on, Merlin didn't think he was ever going to stop doing it. (Not that he'd had any previous plans to, of course, but, well, it was nice to be able to justify his reasons for not stopping to himself now.)

  
"You're going to stop sneaking in here when I'm sleeping," Arthur murmured when he pulled back, voice all commanding and smooth in that way of his.

  
"Oh?" Merlin replied, tone implying that he was going to do no such thing, because, well, he certainly wasn't going to _now_.

  
"Yeah," Arthur nodded. "You'll hardy need to sneak in when you're already going to be in bed with me," he finished, and Merlin's heart skipped a beat at that, almost unsure that Arthur was _actually_ implying what he _thought_ he was implying.

  
"But what if I _like_ sneaking in while you're sleeping?"

  
"I think you'll like what we do in bed a little bit more than you like sneaking in while I'm asleep," he replied, smiling slightly, smugly, so sure of himself.

  
"Mmm, I don't think I can get in bed with you just yet though."

  
"Oh?" It was Arthur's turn to be confused, reaching a hand out to brush at Merlin's hair absently.

  
"Yeah, see… I've said I love you, but… you didn't say it back. And don't even _try_ arguing that you say it every night, because that doesn't count."

  
"It does _so_ count," Arthur countered. "You've heard me say that I love you _scores_ more than I've heard _you_ say you love me. If anything, I shouldn't be inviting you into my bed with me until you say it some more."

  
"What, are you going to take it back or something? Because that's not how it works, Arthur."

  
"That is _exactly_ how it works, actually."

  
"No it's not."

  
"Yes it it. So say you love me again."

  
"No you say it."

  
"No. You."

  
"God just shut up and kiss me again," Merlin insisted, exasperated as he surged forward to kiss Arthur himself, felt his surprise and how he relaxed _just so_ into the kiss after a moment that couldn't have only been a moment at all.

  
Merlin pulled away much more slowly than he'd gone forward, calmed in his quest for a more awake confession for the moment. Arthur was right, after all, Merlin _had_ heard Arthur say it a hell of a lot more than Arthur had heard Merlin say it, and it _did_ count on some level; even though it had taken place while Arthur slept, Merlin had still heard the words all the same.

  
"I love you, you prat," he breathed, smiling slightly at the look that came over Arthur's face as he did, surprised and elated and sleepy at once.

  
"I love you," Arthur replied, the words slipping from his mouth too easily for him to _actually_ be awake, Merlin thought. But he was, they both were and it was…

_**  
Beyond** nice._

  
Arthur moved to kiss Merlin again, but Merlin was out of the way before his lips could quite reach his, thinking himself almost an idiot for it when he saw the frown and disappointment on Arthur's face when he realized there was no kiss to be received.

  
Instead, however, he stood up, and walked around Arthur's bed, removing his boots and jacket and neckerchief along the way; if he was going to be joining Arthur in bed, there really was no good reason not to put the kiss off for a short, quick moment.

  
Arthur turned around in his bed and moved away from the edge, towards the other side to meet Merlin as he threw back the covers and climbed in to join him, meeting him right in the center with a kiss.

  
"We're going to have to have a proper talk about this whole… me talking in my sleep business and you not choosing to inform me of it in the morning, you know. But for tonight… well, I'm not going to be held responsible for anything I say in my sleep tonight," Arthur murmured against Merlin's lips with a low chuckle.

  
"What if you say you love me again?"

  
"Like I said, I won't be held responsible for that."

  
"Mhm," Merlin hummed in disagreement, moving closer to Arthur, hands finding his chest and hair at once, brushing and pressing and smoothing every part of him that he could manage, watching Arthur's face melt into something serene and beautiful.

  
"Besides, for some reason I really _doubt_ I'll be saying something so innocent," he admitted, leaning in for another kiss.

  
"I'll be the judge of that, thanks," Merlin said, and Arthur snorted, but said nothing else on the subject, simply kissed him again and lulled him into the easiest of slumbers Merlin had had in a long time, unbothered for the moment by the idea of having that _talk_ come morning.

  
*

 

* * *

 


End file.
